


Time has Brought Your Heart to Me

by ShepherdSoreyDidNothingWrong (Sagnessagiel)



Series: Worth the Wait [2]
Category: Tales of Zestiria
Genre: Accidental Baby Acquisition, Angst, Family, Humor, M/M, Some talk of injuries and blood, Sormik Week 2017
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-23
Updated: 2017-08-01
Packaged: 2018-12-06 02:16:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 10,352
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11590863
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sagnessagiel/pseuds/ShepherdSoreyDidNothingWrong
Summary: Sormik Week entries 2017.As firsts go, this is definitely a big one.





	1. Beginnings

Shouting from outside brings Medea out of her house. It is Natalie, and it sounds urgent, so Medea abandons her dishes halfway through to dry her hands and go.

It is a bright, sunny day. Sorey's light spire makes it all the brighter, as it always does. When she steps outside, nothing seems immediately out of place. She sees Natalie further down the hill, by the edge of the mountain that faces the ruins in the distance. Natalie is running towards her, her expression worried.

"Medea!" She says once she comes close enough. She points towards the arch that leads out of the village.

"He's back," Natalie pants. "Mikleo's back."

Medea frowns. Something is not right. "Is he alright?"

"He looks hurt," Natalie pants. "I saw him on the edge of the woods. Something's wrong."

Medea nods, and they take off running together. Around them, seraphim are emerging from their houses, confused and worried. Natalie's shouting was loud enough to stir an otherwise peaceful morning in the village. Cynthia comes bounding after them, her dress billowing around her.

They reach the edge of the village quickly. Now Medea can see him too. Halfway from the woods to the village, he staggers as he walks. His coat is torn, capes tangled around his arms. He is holding something, a bundle of brown cloth.

He is not supposed to be back for another three days. From the look of him, he must have made up the difference by walking through the night. Medea's heart squeezes in her chest. He looks terrible.

He catches sight of them, and his eyes reflect a relief that breaks Medea's heart. He falls to his knees on the ground. Medea does the same in front of him.

There is no time for questions at first. "Here," she says, and reaches for the bundle. She needs to check for injuries and fix what she can so that they can get him back to the village. The girls are behind her, ready to follow whatever orders she might give them.

Mikleo flinches, clutches it a little closer. "Wait."

His voice sounds hoarse. His face is smeared with dirt and blood, his hair a matted mess of a ponytail that must be at least a day old. He fumbles with stiff hands to unwrap the loose cloth. Medea stops short at the sight.

"What happened?" she asks. The girls gasp softly behind her.

The round, innocent eyes of a little baby stare back at her. It is a round little thing, tan skin and brown eyes and hair. It is in bad shape, sharing some of Mikleo's scuffs and dirt stains.

"A caravan of some kind," Mikleo rasps, his eyes on the baby's face. "Hellions. She..." He takes a moment to find his voice again. "She was the only one I could find once it was over."

He speaks as clearly as he can with his hoarse throat. Still, it sounds like his mind is somewhere distant. The last time Medea saw him this shocked, he had just returned from Camlann without Sorey.

Medea moves slowly, prying gently at his iron grip. He looks at her, almost as if he is only just now realising that she is there. His arms go slack, letting her take the baby from him. The little girl stirs, fussing and whining as she is rustled. He must have held her like this the whole way here, letting her sleep and fuss while he walked.

"When did she last eat?" Medea asks, her voice stern. It is important.

"I've given her water," Mikleo mumbles. "I think it's been a day or two. I fed her what I could but I didn't have much with me."

She stands up and turns to Cynthia. "Take the little one. Get her to Kyme. We'll handle this."

Cynthia takes her and adjusts her grip carefully. She walks away as briskly as she dares. The little girl looks hurt and exhausted, but Medea trusts the two of them to take good care of her.

Mikleo looks worse off. Without the bundle to shield him, they can see the dark spots and tears in his coat and vest.

Medea tears open his coat and inspects the damage. Scratches and cuts, nothing that will bleed out during the walk back. However, the fact that he has not just healed them himself tells her that some kind of poison is involved. She will need her herbs and gels to stave off any infection that might have taken hold.

She takes one of his arms and pulls it over her shoulders, steadying him. At her nod, Natalie does the same on the other side. Mikleo sags weakly against them.

"Just a little more, Mikleo," Natalie says gently. "You're safe now. We've got you."

He leans his face into her neck for a moment, drawing strength from her presence. Then he nods his assent.

With heavy hearts and careful steps, they begin the walk back to Elysia.


	2. Trust

Mikleo wakes up in what at first seems like an unfamiliar place. After a moment's panic, he recognises the stone walls and wood furniture. Medea's house. He is safe. The baby is safe.

For a long moment, he just lies there and breathes. It comes back to him in flashes, the fight, the torn wagon sheets and splintered wood. The blood, and the baby crying in a broken down carriage.

He shuts his eyes, forcibly driving the images out of his head. He made it out. He saved what he could. He can make himself believe that.

Moving proves a bit of a challenge, as there are fresh bandages just about everywhere. None of it is stained, which is a good sign. He is not bleeding anymore. The light, sore feeling in his head and limbs tells him that Medea dealt with the poisoning while he was asleep. That is both literally and figuratively a weight off his back.

He sits up and checks himself thoroughly. He is still wearing pants. There are bandages over his legs and arms in places he was not even aware were hurt. The last few days became blurred as he focused on making it back to Elysia before the little one succumbed to injuries or starvation. He looks at his hands. Clean and unmarred. He closes them into fists.

He could not protect her family. They were all mostly gone by the time he got there, and what little he saw of them he would rather forget. He closes his eyes again, focusing hard on the ache in his chest and stomach. It grounds him somewhat, places him back in the present. One thought occupies his mind now. He needs to know how the baby fared after he collapsed.

He stands up with careful and deliberate effort, supporting himself with one hand on the bedpost. The first step is the hardest, but he grits his teeth and staggers to the door that leads into the living room. For a moment, he leans on the door handle, letting his forehead fall against the cool wood. In that one second, he braces himself mentally for the worst. Then he twists the handle and opens it.

The living room is as warm and familiar as it always was. Light streams in through the high windows, giving it a comforting glow. The quaint furniture and potted plants seem almost frozen in time, the same as when he and Sorey were little boys sitting on the carpet and listening to Medea telling stories. Some of the seraphim in the village like to change things up once in a while, but since they are seraphim that can vary from every few years to a century or so. Medea is of the latter opinion.

In the far end of the room, just shy of the bright sunlight on the floor, sits Medea in her rocking chair. In her arms is the little girl he gave her before he passed out. Mikleo's new charge.

The little one looks to be asleep, rocked gently by the chair. Medea looks at him, concerned.

"You should not be out of bed yet," she says. There is a clear resignation to her voice that Mikleo recognises. She knows he will not go back to bed now.

He humours her with a dismissive wave. "I'm fine."

The first few steps towards her end of the room prove that he is not. She says nothing as he braves the distance and comes to settle on the chair closest to her.

Mikleo stares at the baby's face, unable to tear his gaze away. She looks peaceful, wrapped up and asleep in Medea's arms. No, more than that. She looks _safe_. The very notion of her ensured protection is enough to draw the breath out of him, relief flooding his core.

He walked a long distance with her in his arms. She fussed and cried and slept uneasily, and he felt nothing but worry for her the whole time. For that time, his life's purpose was boiled down to the safety of an innocent he did not know. She became his whole world until she was safe, and now he feels like collapsing again.

The feeling is immediately tainted by a rush of thoughts that he had no time for on the way here. Questions and speculations as to what will happen next, what they should do with her, who should take care of her. How would they ensure her future knowledge of what happened? Should they?

"Do you want to talk about it?"

Medea's voice brings him out of his thoughts. He looks up at her, meeting her eyes.

When he forces out "No," she only nods in understanding.

"I take it we're all this little one has then?"

She strokes the soft hair on the baby's forehead. Mikleo feels the truth of those words wash over him, freshly painful as if it has not been the only thing that has been true for the last few days. He nods, his throat tight.

"Mikleo."

Medea brings her hand up and puts two fingers under his chin. It is the same exact gesture she would use whenever she comforted him as a child. It matches how young and small he feels right now. Maybe she knows that.

"Whatever happened, and whatever happens now, I want you to know that you did the right thing. You did everything you could. I know this for sure."

Her words are strong, determined. Strong enough that perhaps he can let himself believe her. Still, it does nothing to rectify the tragedy that is the situation.

"What happens to her now?" he asks. The baby stirs in her sleep. She turns her head towards Medea, mumbling a syllable or two.

"I don't know." Medea looks at him seriously. "There are options, but I think it is ultimately up to you to decide."

Mikleo looks once again at the baby's face. Sweet round cheeks and a tuft of hair on her head. She looks no older than one, but past newborn.

The options rattle in his head. Giving her away is one. That in itself is a thick branch on a tree which leads into dozens of smaller branches. A child given away can end up anywhere.

He cannot do that. The thought squeezes his lungs like a vice.

"I can't give her away," he says.

Medea is patient. "What does that mean?"

"I don't know." He shakes his head. "I'm... my head still hurts. I don't know what I should do."

"It is alright to think about it," Medea comforts. "We are here to help. Whatever you decide, we will be with you."

She lays her free hand on his in his lap. He puts his other hand over it and squeezes.

"I know." He ducks his head, feeling heavy. "Thank you."

Medea tilts her head down, trying to look him in the eyes.

"Mikleo?"

He looks up at her. There is a question in her eyes. One that is not about the baby.

"I just..." He pauses and swallows against the lump in his throat. "I was terrified. All I could think about was getting her back safe. If something had happened..."

"Honey," Medea says softly. She wipes at a tear on his cheek. "You did admirably well. You saved a life. It is all that could be asked of you and more."

Mikleo nods. He wipes at is face with his bandaged arm.

"I just couldn't imagine it until now." His lips tremble as he speaks. "How it must have been. For you, for Gramps. Finding us like that."

The images flash in his head, quick as blinking. His breath stutters.

Her hand comes to softly stroke at his cheek. He leans into the touch.

"Sweet child," she says sadly. "I promise you, as awful as its beginning was, I could not imagine a happier life than the one I got raising you two. I love you more than anything."

She smiles at him, and he finds himself smiling sadly back. His hand comes to rest over hers on his cheek.

"This little girl," she says, bringing his attention back to the baby's face, "is safe from danger now. Whatever tragedy befell her, you have ensured her the chance to live happily. It is a noble thing you did, and I could not be more proud of you. Now, you face a difficult choice, but know that we will do everything we can to support you in it."

Mikleo heaves a shaky breath.

"Thank you," he whispers.

Medea nods. She adjusts the blanket so that the baby can settle against her chest. Hesitantly, Mikleo reaches out to stroke his thumb over her small cheeks.

"I didn't really have the time to look at her before," he says. The relief settles once more into his bones. He does not have the energy to think anymore than he already has. Perhaps he should go back to bed like Medea wants.

"Was I ever this cute?" he asks instead, smiling just a little bit. It is all he has the strength for.

Medea ignores the fatigue in his eyes, smiling kindly back at him.

"Not to brag or anything," she says, "but you had the most perfect little cheeks. Like a round apple, and just as rosy."

He huffs weakly. "I'm sensing you're biased."

"Maybe I am." She sniffs. "But this one is quite cute as well."

Mikleo taps the little button nose lightly. It makes her twitch in her sleep.

Forcibly, he pushes the terrified thoughts out of his mind. He needs to rest. He needs to breathe.

"Yeah," he says. "I guess she is."


	3. Knowledge

Mikleo sits in Kyme's living room and watches as Kyme feeds the baby with a sewn water skin. She seems fond of the goat milk they have, which is a blessing. She grips onto the water skin with tiny fists and kneads it to get at the milk. 

It brings him some peace, seeing her so content. It is almost as if nothing is wrong. She looks like a perfectly normal child being fed, far from the danger and unearthly evil he rescued her from. 

She really is adorable. Round apple cheeks and bright eyes. She babbles around the mouth of the water skin, which makes Mikleo a little worried that she might choke, but Kyme does not seem concerned. Mikleo takes it as a sign that things are going well. 

It is interesting, watching his family take care of a baby. It is one thing for him to know that they took care of him when he was this small and fragile. Seeing an example of it is another thing altogether. 

"It seems so effortless for you guys," he says, drawing Kyme's attention. Kyme adjusts the skin gently. He smiles, amused. 

"Yeah?" he asks. Mikleo smiles too, a little sheepish. 

"Yeah. I mean, when I took her here, it wasn't so much a question of what was happening as it was a need to just get her home safe." He fiddles with the hem of his black shirt. His hair is loose, falling over his shoulders. He was able to wash and brush it shortly after waking up, and the fresh feeling is remarkably effective for helping his mood. 

"Now that we're here, and I see you and Medea and Cynthia taking care of her," he gestures to the baby with one hand. "It's kind of dawning on me, you know? Like, the fact that that's actually a real live baby with needs and a personality and everything."

"A delightful one at that." Kyme grins. It makes him look a century younger. Mikleo tries not to dwell on why it seems so out of place nowadays. Kyme speaks again.

"Although for a child, she is quite easy to take care of."

Mikleo raises an eyebrow. "Oh?"

"Yes. Sure, I may compare her to the two of you." He smirks as Mikleo raises the other eyebrow, now amused as well. "But Sorey's situation at first was quite difficult for us all to manage."

Mikleo tilts his head. "How come?" 

For a moment, Kyme frowns. His expression quickly shutters.

"Well, you've come to find the way in which he was brought to this world, no?" 

Mikleo remembers it. Camlann through the Earthern Historia. Sorey's mother, Selene, dead on the ground. Gramps finding her that way. 

He nods. 

Kyme nods back grimly. "He was born too soon, and by some gruesome circumstances. He was a frail little thing when you two first came home. Just over half your size."

Mikleo thinks of Sorey, with his broad shoulders and his regrettable height advantage. Reconciling the image with something smaller than what Kyme is holding in his arms is difficult. Mikleo has never seen Sorey as anything but strong. 

"It was touch and go for a while with him," Kyme continues. "Medea and Cynthia worked so hard. When he pulled through, we all felt so relieved. Medea wouldn't want me to tell you this, but she cried with happiness. We had all worked hard not to get our hopes up."

Kyme's eyes are on the baby as he says this. For a moment, there is a fondness there that Mikleo takes to be Kyme remembering it, seeing Sorey in the little one he holds. 

"I never knew," Mikleo says, regretting it as it breaks off Kyme's moment and draws attention to him. Kyme smiles kindly, shakes his head. 

"Neither does he." He glances towards the window, the one through which you can see Sorey's light in the distance. Mikleo does not turn to look at it. 

"This one though," Kyme says, changing the subject expertly. "This one has some good instincts on her. See here."¨

He walks closer to where Mikleo sits. He leans forward, giving Mikleo a good view of the feeding child. 

"See how well she latches there?" Kyme nods at her, unable to gesture with both hands occupied. "This one knows what to do, and she can show you if you let her."

He backs off a little bit and nods encouragingly. Mikleo suddenly feels very nervous.

"Oh. Um, I..." He stutters for a bit. "I don't know the first thing about children. I don't know how I would-"

"You took her all the way here from below the mountain," Kyme says, even more amused, "and now you blanch at the idea of holding her?"

"It's just," he makes a useless gesture with his hands. He suddenly feels much younger and smaller. There is a feeling that he recognises from when he first saw a baby at nineteen years old, a significant sense of lacking the necessary experience to even hold one. It feels almost like a lack of authority, like he needs some sort of age-qualified clearance for it. 

"It's apparently different when it's not an emergency," he says. Truly, he has not held her yesterday when he woke up in Medea's bedroom. "What if I drop her? I don't know the technique."

There was none in his mind when he carried her up. It was just his arms locked around her, his mind preoccupied with the thought, "just a little bit more". He thought that a lot on the way up. He barely even remembers how it felt to hold her.

"Mikleo," Kyme says, cutting off his rambling. "It'll be fine. I'm here with you."

Mikleo considers arguing, but he does trust Kyme. He stands up and holds out his arms with a sense of uncertainty not unlike that which comes with the appearance of a new breed of hellion in his path. 

Kyme shifts the child into his grip with gentle movements. He settles her head into the crook of MIkleo's arm. Once he feels confident that Mikleo has her supported properly, he presses the water skin into his other hand. 

"Hold it like this." He manually adjusts the grip. Mikleo offers it to the little one, and she happily takes it with her little hands. She puts it into her mouth and suckles with unparalleled contentment. 

It seems safe enough. A smile pulls at Mikleo's lips. 

"Keep it steady." Kyme lets go and backs up, holding out his hands as grandly as a magician after a trick. "And now you're feeding a baby, all on your own."

Mikleo chuckles, relieved. His eyes stay on hers. She looks up at him with a concentration in her eyes that amuses him. It seems she takes her food quite seriously. 

He sways slowly, gently rocking her. In his periphery, he can see Kyme going to the other end of the room, letting him have a moment with her.

"Hi," he says. "It's good to see you again."

It feels so fantastically relieving to see her safe and happy. It helps to calm his mind immensely just to watch her eat. After only a few days of knowing her, he already has a hard time being away from her.

For a long moment, the silence is filled only by the low sound of her suckling at the skin. He watches her little fists clench around it. So strong, and yet so small. 

"You know," he says to her, his voice soft and emotional. "I know someone who would just love you."

She looks him in the eyes. Her mouth works methodically on drinking, but her expression is attentive. She is listening to him. 

It makes him smile. "Hi there."

She blinks. Once, twice. He takes it for a greeting back. 

He can picture Sorey, the glint in his eyes, how delighted he would be. He would not have wasted a moment in asking to hold her. As adorable as she is, they would have been unable to pry her away. 

It might be Mikleo's imagination, but suddenly the room seems a little brighter. He glances at the window, taking in the light spire in the distance. Then he looks back at her face.

"Yeah," Mikleo whispers. "He definitely would."


	4. Protection

A few days later, they get a fairly warm sunny day. The last week or so has been pretty windy on the mountain, so once it reduces to a cool breeze Mikleo takes the opportunity to take the baby outside for a little sunlight. 

He and Natalie sit on the grass, close enough to the edge that they can see the clouds below and yet far enough that Mikleo can feel safe about Natalie bouncing the baby on her lap. She coos with enthusiasm, and the little one gurgles happily back. 

Mikleo sits leaned back, supporting himself on his hands and stretching out his legs. He has healed enough to be able to take a proper bath, and now his hair is drying quickly in the breeze. It removes the need for him to dry it himself. 

Sorey's light shines in the distance, bright and yet gentle on the eyes. He has thought many times that it perfectly represents Sorey as a person. Strong enough to defend, and gentle enough to comfort. A perfect personality for a shepherd. 

Natalie blows a rasberry, and the baby copies her clumsily. She dribbles down over her chin, but her expression is delighted. Natalie chuckles, settling the baby on her lap and producing a handkerchief from her pocket that she uses to wipe her little chin clean. 

"You're going to teach her to drool on me more," Mikleo says, amused. Brown eyes meet his, and he smiles at the little girl. She smiles back, and he resists the urge to coo. 

"It's in my authority as an auntie," Natalie replies. She smirks at him. He blinks in surprise. 

"That's a quick conclusion," he says, and feels surprisingly bad as he does. It is, though. He has only had the little one for a total of five days. 

He does not like thinking of the option he has mentally titled 'Not Keeping Her'. There is something that feels really wrong about talking about her as though she were an Elysalark he found outside the nest. She feels important to him, in a way he has difficulty describing even to himself. 

That feeling brings a lot of complications into the thought process of what he should do. It is difficult to make such an important decision when one out of two options feels too uncertain to be acceptable. Still, it is not a decision he wants to take lightly. 

"It's not a conclusion," she says, looking away from him. "Merely a guess."

"You have that much faith in me?"

He is only half joking. Natalie's look is almost dismissive in its casualness. 

"Why wouldn't I?" she asks, as though it were the most natural thing in the world. "You're a caring, protective person. You'd put your whole being into it."

She bounces the little girl up and down on her knee. The baby coos, completely oblivious to the serious nature of the discussion. For a moment, Mikleo's mind veers into dark territory. She does not know that her whole family is gone. She knows nothing of the tragedy that her life has become. 

He lets it take only a moment before he forcibly pushes the thoughts away. Ultimately, they do nothing more than upset him. 

"Truthfully I feel like the most unqualified person ever to be near a child," he says. Natalie surprises him by chuckling. He looks at her questioningly. 

"Mikleo," she says, still laughing a little bit. "As someone who has seen you, Sorey and Ed all grow up from infancy, let me tell you that no one who has had a child has ever felt qualified to have one. Everyone stumbles their way through it. Even a whole village."

Mikleo is about to open his mouth to insist on his incompetence when a thought occurs. "Even Medea?"

That gives her pause for a moment. She shrugs. 

"I guess Medea is an exception. She always has everything under control."

Natalie says it so fondly that it makes Mikleo smile. Her affection for the old seraph is shared by all the younger ones in the village, as well as Sorey. If he were to select someone in his life who has acted as a mother the most, it would be her. 

"That she does," he says. 

"Not everyone can be Medea," Natalie concedes. "but you don't have to be. I know you. You'd do fine as a parent."

He sighs through his nose. Her faith in him is comforting, but it does not quite rub off on him the way he wants it to. 

"I just can't see it. I mean..." He sits up straight and gestures with his hands as he speaks. "I can't even imagine managing to take care of her alone. I need you guys just for the basics."

"You have us," Natalie says, somehat confused. 

"I know I do," Mikleo insists, "but what about taking her away from here? What do I do when I go back to Ladylake to see Sal? That, by the way, is another problem. What do I tell Sal?"

He brushes his bangs out of his face. The breeze is ruffling his hair, curling it up far more than he normally lets it. He runs a hand through his hair. Curly and fluffy. He must look like a disheveled sheep in a black shirt. 

"That I can't answer for you," Natalie says. "but taking care of her is something you've already done on your own. Two days, and injured the whole time. You'll do fine with a little fine tuning."

She gives him a comforting smile. He realises that arguing may just not get him anywhere with her. Perhaps she even has a point. One that would take him a while to grasp, but a point. 

"But say all this is true," she says, very seriously. "That leaves only the question as to whether or not you want to be a parent. In this case, you do have the choice."

If she notices the way his breath stutters at that, she does not say anything. 

"Yeah," he says quietly. "I guess it does."

Natalie watches him out of the corner of her eye. The baby reaches for her necklace, and she lets her grab it. The baby squeezes it in her tiny fist, gazing reverently at the blue stone. 

"That's another question only you can answer." Natalie turns to him fully. "But you should know that whatever you choose, we will be behind you."

Mikleo looks at her. He sweeps his bangs out of his eyes, a little embarrassed at what he says next. 

"Have I told any of you guys that I love you lately?" 

She grins, leaning in to bump her shoulder against his. "You don't need to. We know."

"I still should." He bumps her back. "Thanks. For helping me think."

"I'm really only keeping you from overthinking it, the way you always do." Natalie smiles, unrepentant in the face of his glare. She holds the little one so that she faces Mikleo, making him unable to keep the expression up. 

"I know for sure now that you're going to use her against me if I do keep her," he says. 

"Duh," she replies, matter of fact. Mikleo reaches out to take the baby. 

Natalie shifts her into his arms, murmuring soft reassurances as she does so. There is no need. The little girl goes happily over to Mikleo's lap. Once settled there, she immediately gather up two tufts of his hair in her hands, tugging insistently. 

Mikleo winces, but it does not properly hurt. There is only the insinuation that she could do some damage should she wish to. 

"Hey little one," he says softly as he pries his hair loose. She very solemnly babbles something unintelligible. Immediately she goes to grab at another few strands. He gives up for the moment. 

Natalie drags out a lock on the back of his neck, watching as it bounces back. 

"You look hilarious when you let it air dry," she says, grinning again. "Like a bright, fluffy cloud."

"Thank you," he says with as much dignity as he can muster. Natalie laughs, drawing the baby's attention. 

An adorable smile forms on her small face. It makes it impossible not to smile with her. 

Mikleo holds her a little closer, letting her nestle into the crook of his neck. She holds on to his hair like a secure rope. 

"I'm doomed, aren't I?" he says softly to Natalie. The little girl slots perfectly into his arms, like she belongs there. 

Natalie's face could be pity, could be amusement, could be both. "Pretty sure, yeah."

"Crap," he murmurs into the crown of her head. "Still gonna think about it for a while, though."

"As you should," Natalie says. "It is a big decision. That's a life you're holding."

Mikleo feels the baby burrow her face into his neck. The action puts a lump in his throat. He cannot help but think of whose love and closeness would have taught her to do that, to seek that warmth. 

"Whatever happens," he says seriously to Natalie. "I will make sure it becomes a good one."


	5. Truth

Medea is cutting apples for baking when someone knocks on her door. She puts down the knife and rinses her hands by conjuring some water and letting it run off in the washbasin. Then she goes to answer it.

Mikleo stands on the other side, wringing his hands nervously. It is very early. The sun is barely peeking over the mountains behind him, the sky a gentle shade of purplish blue. Sorey's light makes it brighter, making it look later than it is.

Mikleo is dressed in a simple shirt and pants, the kind he likes to sleep in. His hair is pinned up, kept under careful control. He must have spent some time on it, which Medea takes to mean that he must have done a lot of thinking.

"Is something wrong, Mikleo?" she asks gently. He looks nowhere near as upset or ragged as he did when he arrived, but she knows her boys. Something heavy is weighing on him.

"Is the little one alright?" she asks. It is the first thing that comes to mind.

Mikleo nods, taking a moment to find his voice. "She's fine. It's, uh, it's nothing bad. I just wanted to tell you something." He looks around the room for a moment.

"I wanted you to be the first," he says.

Medea realises with some surprise that it is not just fear she sees in his eyes. It is there, mingled with a sort of fluttering excitement. He looks winded with it, somewhat out of breath.

Medea opens her mouth to speak, but Mikleo speaks first. The words tumble out of him, his eyes darting between her and his hands, as though he is going to lose his courage if he does not say it now.

"I can't let her be left up to chance," he says. "I want to protect her, and this is the best way I can think of."

Medea blinks. "You mean..."

Mikleo nods. His smile is small and brittle, like clear fragile glass. "I care about her. More than I thought I was capable of. I want to keep her."

He stutters over the last words. His hand comes up to twist at a lock of his hair - a nervous habit of his - but as it is all pinned tightly to the back of his head there is nothing to grasp at. He ends up brushing his bangs to the side instead.

Medea feels a myriad of emotions stir in her chest. She takes his hands in hers, looking into his eyes.

"Yeah?" she says, and her voice is thin. Mikleo nods, his smile growing with her excitement.

"Mikleo," she says, emotional, "that's amazing!" She pulls him into a hug. He clings to her, laughing weakly. She backs up and squeezes his shoulders. "I am so proud of you. You're going to do great."

"It's good that one of us has faith in me," he chuckles. "I'm terrified."

"A great quality in a new parent," she says seriously, making him laugh for real.

She puts her hands on his cheeks, looking at his face.

Her eyes well with tears. "My little boy. You're so grown up."

Mikleo puts his hands over hers. He draws them off and pulls her into a hug.

"Thanks for helping me," he says quietly. "I didn't feel like I could do it alone."

"You'll never be alone," she says. Over his shoulder, she can see the thin stripe of light in the distance. "Ever."

* * *

"What do you think about Sera?"

Ed sits by the fire with the baby in his lap. He is making faces at her as he speaks, delighting her to no end and making him look joyfully silly. It contrasts hilariously with his calm words.

Natalie wrinkles her nose. "She doesn't look like a Sera to me."

She and Mikleo sit by the table. She is working on a sketch for a watercolour painting, a detailed scene of trees and grass. Mikleo sits across from her with a manuscript he was working on before he went on the last expedition. It has been two weeks since he came back, and now he finally feels well enough to pick up his pen and edit it some.

"Well, what does she look like then?" Ed asks, mildly annoyed but more amused. He winces as the baby grasps onto his short hair with unprecedented strength.

Natalie pauses in her sketching and gives the two of them a calculating look. "Nina," she states with precise certainty.

Ed snorts delicately. Mikleo looks up from his writing.

"Nina, huh?" He throws a glance at her. "Maybe. I don't know."

Natalie smirks at him. "And what's your suggestion, Mikleo? You're the dad here."

"That will never stop being weird," he responds, eyes on the paper. He looks up at her with a mischievous glint in his eyes.

"What about Natalie?"

She huffs. "No way. You can't put that sort of expectations on a baby. She'll get all sorts of complexes trying to live up to that."

Mikleo chuckles. Ed raises the baby over his head. She gurgles happily, managing to drool a bit on him while up there. He grimaces, but does not otherwise react.

"Yeah," he says. "Can't pin her with a name like that. She'll hate you for it."

He grins at Natalie, and she smiles, narrowing her eyes. With a casual motion she flicks a splash of water in his direction. He almost gets out of the way.

"Cold," he yelps, steadying the baby who is miraculously dry. Natalie has good control of her powers. "No fair." He laughs, holding up a hand when she threatens to do it again. "Careful, I'm holding a child!"

Mikleo does not look up. "No dropping the baby, Ed."

Natalie pauses in the act of flicking more water at him. She shrugs, deeming it a sufficient punishment, and turns her attention back to Mikleo.

"But seriously, though." She leans forward over the table and puts her chin in her hands. "What do you think?"

Mikleo finishes writing out a note in the margin. He taps his lips with the pen.

"I have been thinking about it," he says, "but I've got nothing, really. I mean..." he smiles to himself, sheepish.

"Look at her." He gestures to the baby with the pen. "She's precious. Nothing I come up with is good enough for her."

Natalie sighs, amused. "Fine. We'll think on it together. How's that sound?"

She notices Mikleo's expression changing. He looks troubled. She frowns.

"What's wrong?" she asks.

He hesitates for a moment. "It's also, that... you know."

He puts down the pen and worries the paper with his fingers. He looks very suddenly ashamed.

"What?" Natalie asks, worried. Mikleo shakes his head, as if dismissing his own thoughts.

"She ought to have a name already," he says, eyes downcast. "Her parents must have given her one. I feel that if I give her a new one, I take that away from her."

This effectively drains all the amusement out of the discussion. Evidently this really distresses him. For a long moment, he retreats, looks down and drifts from them in the same way he has been doing for a couple weeks now. The same way he did when he came back from Camlann five hundred years ago.

Natalie looks at Ed, who looks back at her with steel in his eyes. Words pass between them in the empty air, an agreement about what they should do.

Natalie nods. She leans back against her chair and puts the pen down on the table.

Mikleo looks up at her, and he is surprised at the somber look on her face. She gives him a comforting smile, just a slight tug of the lips.

"Mikleo," she says. "A good name, and one that we are proud of, but not given to you by your mother."

He startles, blinking like an owl. Natalie waits patiently, letting him process the information. Silence settles over the room, leaving only the crackling fire to fill the air.

Ed speaks next. "As a seraph, you possess a given name and a true name. These are gifts from your family and from nature to you. In your case, you possess a third one that is between you and your past alone."

Mikleo opens his mouth, but no words come out. He looks between the two of them.

"I didn't know," he says quietly. His brows furrow. He tangles his fingers in a strand of hair draped over his shoulder.

"I don't even know what it is," he says.

Natalie speaks gently. "Does that give it any less worth? Truly?"

He thinks for a long moment. The curl twists in his grip.

Finally, he shakes his head.

"No, I don't think so."

"Your name was given to you in a show of love by your mother," Natalie says. "Whatever happens, you will always have that love with you. Just as she will have hers."

She looks at the baby, and Mikleo does too. The little one seems unconcerned with the serious atmosphere, picking at the embroidery in Ed's shirt. Ed smiles encouragingly at Mikleo.

"On the other hand," he says. "Sorey has only the one name. He was born after his mother died, taking from her the chance to give him one. Do you think that makes him worth any less?"

Mikleo looks offended. "Of course not."

Ed nods. "Exactly. She loved him just the same, and that will always be with him. A name is important, but it does not define you. No matter what name you give this little one," he holds her up for Mikleo to see, "she will grow into the same sweet caring girl as she would have had her parents still been with her. She will because you are giving her the chance to."

"Besides," Natalie says. "Even if you feel as though something is being taken away from her, you can be sure that it was not you that did it. That falls on the hellions which caused this."

She says it firmly, steely eyes meeting his. Mikleo hesitates for only a moment, nodding firmly.

"You're right," he says.

"Now," Natalie gestures grandly to Ed and the child. "You're her new protector. Show her that by giving her a new name. Add your love to theirs for her."

"A grand way of putting it." He smiles, which was the goal of her action. Natalie grins, satisfied.

"She's getting dramatic in her old age." Ed grins too, and holds up the baby like a shield when her attention turns on him again. Mikleo chuckles.

He thinks for a moment, the he asks, "is that what you all did for me?"

Their smiles at this are warm and genuine. He feels a swell of affection for them, for everyone in the village. He did not know how much naming him meant to them.

"Thank you," he says, unable to keep all the emotion out of his voice.

"That said, I have no idea what name to give her. I'm not very creative in that way."

"That we can help with." Ed bounces her on his leg. "She's your daughter, so we could start with an 'M'."

"Why would that be significant?" Mikleo asks. Ed shrugs.

"We got the idea for yours from your mother and uncle. They both start with an 'M'. Why not continue the tradition?"

Mikleo raises an eyebrow. "Is it really that simple?"

"It can be," Natalie says. "If you want it to."

She has returned to her work. Abandoning the sketch pen, she has begun dipping her finger in the paints and spreading them on the page in a most gentle show of water-based seraphic artes. A gently shaded landscape is appearing on the paper.

Mikleo watches, fascinated. She has promised to teach him how to do that, but he rarely has the time between his travels.

"Say we go with that," he says. "Any ideas?"

"Mikaela?" Ed asks. He grins innocently when Mikleo playfully glares.

"I think there's been quite enough of 'Mik's at this point," Mikleo says. "Besides, it would only mess up the nicknaming you're so fond of."

Ed shrugs, smirking. Natalie drags a finger over her paper, contemplating.

"Marina?" she suggests. "It means 'of the sea'."

Mikleo considers it. "Better, but not quite. It makes it sound like I made her, which," he gestures something completely unintelligible. "I clearly did not."

"What about Meryl?" Ed asks, offhand. His attention is on the child. He is once again entertaining her by making faces. Her full delighted attention is on him.

"Meryl," Mikleo says, considering. "What does it mean?"

"Shining sea," Natalie supplies, smiling. She can tell from the look on his face that he likes that one. Truth be told, she likes it too.

She looks at Ed, shrugs. "Guess you win this one."

"Really?" Ed looks up. They both look at Mikleo.

Mikleo shrugs too, his smile wide. "Yeah, I guess you do. I like it."

"It's decided then," Natalie says warmly, even as she laments her lost victory. "Little Meryl."

Mikleo stands up and walks over to the fire where Ed sits. At his wordless prompting, Ed hands him the child with minimal fuss. She grasps at his sleeves as he lifts her up and carries her back to sit on his chair again.

"Meryl," Mikleo says again. He takes in the child with new eyes, a new warmth.

She reaches for his hair and he lets her grab it, nestling her into the crook of his neck. He kisses the top of her head, brushing softly at her hair.

"Welcome, Meryl," he says.


	6. Promises

Mikleo knew on some level that taking care of a child is difficult. He was not thinking very hard about it when he was carrying her to Elysia. That was mostly a matter of following an instinct. Get her home. Get her safe.

When Medea was taking care of her as he recovered, he was only peripherally aware of it. Medea is a confident parent. To her, taking care of a baby is a routine that she knows, and it makes the task look like a well oiled clock to other people. Mikleo knows now that he did not get an accurate impression of the work it entails from watching her do it.

He would not have thought it, but there is a big difference between taking responsibility for a child and declaring yourself their parent. The latter comes with a mental sense of responsibility he has not previously felt. He takes the more tedious and difficult tasks on himself more often, in order to spare Medea and the village from having to deal with it as much as they did when he was a child. Now it feels like his task to take on, with a mixed sense of pride and fatigued annoyance as he does so.

On this night, he finds himself outside Elysia, walking in the woods with Meryl bundled in his arms. He rocks her slowly as he walks, shushing and soothing as well as he can as she fusses. She has trouble sleeping tonight, to the point where the seraphim that sleep have had trouble with it as well.

The walk was Medea's suggestion. Something she said calmed him and Sorey down when this happened to them as infants. After an hour or so of walking, he is beginning to suspect it was at least partially to get the noise away from the village. Meryl whines, and he shushes her on reflex.

"Shh, Meryl." He presses his lips to her forehead, cradling her close. "Easy now. It's time to sleep."

He has said the same thing many times now, together with other ineffective phrases. There is not much else for him to do. Meryl whines, threatening to cry again. He strokes her hair, coos softly and patiently.

"It's okay. Everything's okay."

He reaches a clearing in the woods with some scraps of the Mabinogio ruins in it. The sky above is full of bright stars. Sorey's light stands tall above the trees.

Despite the baby's distress, Mikleo smiles slightly as he sees it. He stops in the clearing and looks around for a place to sit down. A flat section of stone provides one.

He shrugs out of his coat with some difficulty and spreads it over the stone.

"I'm here," he whispers to Meryl. She is beginning to quiet down, but it is a slow process. He feels incredibly grateful, as they have been at this for an hour and a half now.

Listening to her discontent and rocking her back and forth, he feels more than a little tired himself. After two weeks of sleeping while he recovered, a sleepless night takes some getting used to again. It also saddens him to see the little girl so upset.

"Meryl, sweetie." He mutters the words against the crown of her head. "How about I tell you a story? Would you like a story?"

Meryl mumbles a few syllables. She sniffs, looking up at him with her wide brown eyes. Mikleo smiles, hoping to instil some calm with it.

"You see that light over there?" he loosens one hand to point. He looks up, not bothering to check whether she follows his pointing or not. Then he looks back at her.

"That light comes from a place where someone very special is sleeping."

He bounces her lightly, keeping his voice very low and soothing.

"He lived here in Elysia when he and I were your age. We used to play together a lot. He and I went everywhere together."

To his surprise and relief, it seems to be working. If anything, perhaps the sound of his voice helps.

"During that time," he says, feeling profoundly silly and somewhat amused at what he means to say, "there was a great evil in the world. This special person decided that he had to do something about it."

He has told this story many times, but rarely in so simplistic a manner. There is something comfortable about it. It becomes easier in this way.

"I promised this special person that I would come with him. We traveled very far together and saw a lot of things. We fought monsters like the ones in the stories, and we saw a lot of ruins just like this one."

He gestures to the scattered stones around them. Meryl does not follow his hand. Instead her attention is on his face, taking him in with wide curious eyes. Mikleo brushes a wisp of hair out of her eyes. He smiles gently.

"I went with him because I wanted him to be happy, and I promised him I would protect him. I did my best to keep him safe..."

He pauses, his gaze flicking up to the stripe of light in the sky. He weighs his words carefully, more for his own sake than for hers.

"Now, he did something at the end of this journey we had together. Something that meant he had to sleep for a long time. This was so that he could protect the whole world. He said..."

He hesitates, bites his lip. Focusing, he keeps his eyes carefully on hers, ignoring he light.

"He said it was so that he could protect me back."

He has not told anyone that before. For five hundred years he has kept those words close to his heart. Mostly because he considers it a silly thing to say. Sorey always protected him. There was no question about that.

"If you ask me, though, I think it was for you." He taps her lightly on the nose. "I think he knew that you and all others like you would need someone like him to protect them. Because as I told him," a pointed look towards the light, "I can take care of myself just fine."

Meryl stares at him. After a moment, she wriggles a hand out of the blanket to reach towards his face. Mikleo raises his eyebrow. He knows what that means.

With practiced ease, he tugs the hairband out of his hair and lets it fall over his shoulders. His ponytail was an irreparable mess anyway.

"Now, I think you could take a lesson from him right now, because much like him, you need a good nap." He smiles at his own joke.

Meryl buries her tiny fingers into his hair and clutches it, sighing with visible satisfaction. She has learned not to pull too hard (most of the time) and Mikleo has found it a useful method of calming her. It gets his hair a little sticky when she does it after food, but the first thing he learned as a new parent was that there is no way to avoid getting sticky. Children are messy, but as a water seraph he finds himself with a better chance of keeping clean than others.

Mikleo watches her face as she finally settles in to sleep, his messy white hair held close to her face in a tiny fist. He has yet to find a name for the feeling that stirs in his chest. Fondness is too unspecific. Love is a little too complicated, too dulled by the shock of the events that took place. It is made murky by the fact that he is not the one meant to hold her like this, that someone else had it taken away from them. For the moment, he can settle for calling it caring. He cares about her, and none of the sadness can drive that away.

Looking at her eyes flicker before they close, her frown relaxing into a peaceful expression, he knows for sure that he can love her. She can become the most important thing in his life. It is as terrifying as it is reassuring.

"I'm sure he would want to meet you when he wakes up," he says quietly. "but I think until then you'll have to settle for me." He laughs, but it comes out as more of a sigh. "Rest assured, you're getting the fool's end of that bargain. He was much better with kids than I ever was."

Her breathing is starting to even out. He keeps talking, just to make sure she gets all the way to sleep.

"I'll do my best though. I'm told I have a lot of potential. I know all sorts of places to show you when you get old enough." He stands up slowly, carefully. Meryl stirs slightly, but does not wake.

He means to turn and walk away, but something stops him. He stands there, still for a long moment. Complete silence settles over the clearing.

Slowly, he raises his eyes to the light, taking in its full length. He cannot see the origin point over the mountains. Still, he can place it perfectly in his mind.

How many times has he looked at that light? How many times has he thought of Sorey, sleeping soundly as a child in his chamber far underground? Too many to count, and many yet to come.

"You promised you'd come back," he whispers to the empty air. "I'm holding you to that, and now she is too."

He turns to walk away, placing his feet carefully to avoid jostling Meryl too much. The light behind him stands tall in the sky, silent and unmoving.


	7. Family

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the last chapter of this. I have something else planned for the bonus day.
> 
> I have plans for a sequel as well, but that may be a little while. I have a lot of WIPs at the moment and I hope to clear some out soon. Thanks for sticking with me for this one :)

Ladylake has not changed much in the last five hundred years. Names and faces have gone away and been replaced, and buildings have been remodeled and repaired, but nothing truly changes. Looking at it from the landscape below, Mikleo feels remarkably small. He can grow as old as he wants, but the tenacity of humanity will persist. It is something Zaveid told him long ago, and he has found it increasingly true.

Coming to Ladylake this time, he looks a lot less like the famous seraph he is often recognised as. He is in regular travel clothes with a sling over one shoulder to hold Meryl safely in place against his chest. On his back is a travel sack larger than the one he usually carries, full of supplies for the little girl. She is sleeping soundly, having tired herself out by babbling and playing with a rattle most of the way. He is profoundly grateful that the sound of it has died down and he has been allowed to put it away.

He stops for a moment at the start of the bridge. Setting his staff against the ground, he just looks at it for a long moment. When he first saw this city, it meant something different to him than it does now. Then it instilled in him a sense of wonder and novelty. Now, the sight of it twists a nervous knot in his stomach.

He draws in breath through his nose and lets it out through his mouth, trying to calm himself. His other hand is on Meryl's head, keeping it steady even as the sling supports her well. It has become a habit in the last few days.

He takes the first step onto the bridge. The stone is dusty and worn smooth from endless footsteps and wagon wheels. The stability of it is comforting.

He walks mechanically into the city. The two of them draw a few looks, resonant people who likely only half believe that they recognise him. Right now, he looks very different than he usually does, out of his signature blue in a black shirt and grey pants. His hair is pinned up in a neat bun, keeping it out of his face and the straps on his shoulders. If anything, he figures it is his eyes that stir their memories. His bangs are cut short and loose, just long enough to keep his circlet out of sight.

He knows the city perfectly. Already back when he was with Sorey, they spent a lot of time in it, and after Sorey went to sleep he had a lot of time left over to spend with Alisha and explore. Now, he has a specific destination in mind. He weaves through the streets expertly, keeping Meryl carefully out of reach so that no one bumps into her. Even with the noise in the city, she manages to continue her afternoon nap.

Finally they arrive at the steps of a building just outside the Noble's District. It is unremarkable, plain and strong and closed off by a heavy wooden door. He knocks stiffly on it, regretting it some as he does.

The few seconds it takes for the door to open are agonising and long. He wrings his hands around the staff. Realising what he is doing, he dismisses it into the air. The door creaks open, revealing a swath of red hair that frames a thin, heart-shaped face.

Sal breaks halfway out into a smile when she sees him. Then her eyes widen when she spots the bundle in his arms. Mikleo stands very still, looking her steadily in the eye even as he attempts to drink in the image of her face. She looks beautiful, even in a loose shirt and worn pants.

Mikleo attempts to make peace with the fact that this might be the last time he gets to see her in this way. It is proving very difficult.

"So," he says, trails off for only a second or two before he gathers the courage. "We may need to talk."

Sal looks between him and Meryl's peaceful face. One hand is over her mouth, making it difficult to tell exactly what her expression means. She blinks, once, twice. Then she closes her hand into a loose fist, revealing her mouth.

"I think..." she takes a moment too. "you might be getting the order of this mixed up. We've been on five dates."

Mikleo laughs. Nervousness and fear make it a high, thin sound.

"Yeah, sorry about that." He drags a hand from his cheekbones to his jaw. "I might not be the best at this."

She breathes something that might be a laugh. For a long, awkward moment they stare at each other. Meryl stirs, disrupting the shocked trance.

Mikleo figures he should say something.

"In all seriousness, though," he says, once again taking in every detail of her face. "I'm not asking anything of you. I just want to explain what happened. What happens after that..."

He finds himself without an end to that sentence. Emotions stir in his chest. Sadness, apprehension, worry. He can lose her over this. He does not feel ready for that.

Sal's eyes soften, making her look impossibly delicate. Her jaw works for a moment with half formed words. Then she lowers her hand.

"She's adorable," she says. Mikleo raises both eyebrows in surprise. That was not the response he was expecting.

He has no good response to that, so he remains silent. Sal looks him in the eyes.

"Look," she says slowly. "Obviously something very significant has happened. I don't know what, but I'll let you explain. As to what happens now," she smiles gently. "I think we can talk about it."

Mikleo practically bleeds relief. He sags slightly where he stands, his stiff spine almost going slack as he relaxes. It must show on his face.

"Thank you," he says, endlessly grateful. Sal nods slightly.

"On one condition, though," she says, with as much mischief as she can put in it. It is not much, as the serious mood weighs down on it.

"What?" Mikleo asks, foregoing his first idea of saying "anything".

Sal nods to Meryl. "I get to hold that little treat."

Mikleo grins. He cannot help it. It does not make anything certain, but her smile is more than comforting. It gives him hope.

"Deal," he says, and it is more of a relieved sigh than a word.


End file.
